It was a cabin of some sort, and no bigger than ten by twenty feet, really. There was room for a simple bunk in the bulkhead, a desk, a chair, a shelf loaded with books, a private wardrobe, and shelves of spill-proof containers that held samples of marine life from fish to plants that looked ready for sea already. The room was faintly lit and sitting with his back to she and her escort was the man she supposed she had come to see.
Unlike her escort, this man wore a pair of common slacks, a white lab coat, a tie, and he had a pair of wire-framed glasses upon his head as he looked down a microscope. But interestingly enough, he didn’t strike her as the kind of man who was interested in science.
His attire notwithstanding, she saw that he had the sides of his head shaved and where the hair was missing were tattoos of half-naked mermaids. And though he wore a lab coat the sleeves had been cut off like some kind of a punk-rockers coat and the shirt he wore – while whole – had its sleeves rolled up revealing more tattoos along his arm. His wrists were covered in spiked bracelets, and she was certain that she could see an eyebrow piercing on his right side.
“Excuse me, Dane?” the mop boy said.
“Yeah?” the man with his eyes down the microscope said casually. Nya half-expected him to growl.
“Ms. Wilson is here to see you.”
The man at the microscope looked up from his work at the mop boy and the new arrival. With a flick of the wrist he pushed his glasses down over his eyes and Nya found something else that she had not realized about the man.
He was actually kind of handsome.
His eyes were a deep set of blue. His skin was bronzed from what she knew to be long hours spent under the sun, and despite his many tattoos and eye piercing he actually looked somewhat fetching.
“Oh!” he said, rising to his feet and straightening the flaps of his altered lab coat. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand to her.
Nya put her duffle down and shook his head. “It’s nice to meet you as well, mister–”
He shook his head. “Never mind the mister part. We’re informal around here. Call me Dane.” To the boy that had shown her to the cabin he said, “That’ll be all Mitch, thank you. And please tell the captain that the crew is complete and to cast off when he’s ready.”
“Sure thing,” the boy said as he turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him.
Taking his hand back, Dane put his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad you could join, Ms. Wilson.”
“Nya,” she said, sensing that that was point he wanted her to make. “Informal, right?”
He grinned.
She blushed.
“Can I offer you anything?” he asked, gesturing to his wardrobe. “We don’t carry much in the way of alcohol aboard – at least not the kind you want to drink – but I have a couple of bottles that I dip into on occasion. If not, I can have the galley whip you up something quick enough.”
“Uh, no, thank you,” she said. “I had a pretty decent meal before I came down here.”
He nodded. “Well alright then.” He rounded her and sat on the flat of his desk. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you,” she said, setting her second bag down and settling into the chair that faced his desk as there was nothing else in the small cabin for her to sit upon. The rest of the area was dedicated to science and research. She found that she could easily appreciate that.
“So…” Dane said, folding his hands in his lap. “That was an interesting paper that you wrote. It certainly got the attention of people who are a lot smarter than I am.”
She wanted to make a comment about how that seemed easy enough, given his appearance, but she chose not to say anything. Science had certainly taught her not to take anything at face value. The same applied to people.
“I’m glad that somebody liked it,” he said honestly. “I just didn’t think that anyone like the Carver Group would think that it was possible.”
He chuckled. “Artificially create whale song? That’s a bold claim. And it would be a tremendous breakthrough… if you can prove it works.”
“You sound skeptical.”
He nodded. “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. Still, every breakthrough in history sounded like a nut-job’s delusions at one point or another. Round-Earth… Heliocentric solar system… the telescope… Miracle gro… everyone laughed at the start. Now look at us. But we here at the Carver Group believe that everything deserves a chance. Success doesn’t happen overnight.”
“Not without many failures beforehand, it doesn’t.”
“Touché,” he said with a nod. “So… tell me about this design of yours. I read the paper but marine biology is more my thing. Marine engineering is a little out of my league.”
She felt a small flutter in her belly, knowing that her moment to justify her research had finally come. She had rehearsed the speech a dozen times, making notes and alterations where she thought them to be suitable. But even so she felt that rush of adrenaline that burned within her.
“Well… the design is simple enough. I’ve been analyzing whale song since I first went to school.”
“Eight years now, right?”
She nodded. “That’s right. Anyway, I started listening to different variations of the songs that I heard. Where they were taken… what time of year… what kinds of whales were singing those songs… like that. And after about three years I began to discern patterns in them. And with a little extra testing, I think I found a means to artificially replicate whale song.”
Dane arched an eyebrow. “You found a way to talk to whales?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly… there is no Rosetta Stone for whale song. But from the research I’ve conducted, variations in the song – pitch, harmonics, like that – I discovered that certain sounds were either the same or at least very similar in their nature. Kind of like proper English versus the vernacular, some words don’t change for either but in each some words take on a whole new meaning.”
He rolled his eyes for a moment in contemplative thought. “Yeah, sorry, all I’m hearing is that you think you’ve found a way to talk to whales.”
She chuckled to hide her slight aggravation. “The box that I’ve designed,” she said, starting at the beginning, “is a simple thing. Whales make certain thrumming sounds when they’re communicating with their own pods or even with others. I listen for the sounds that never change and from the documented sounds that I’ve catalogued I think I’ve found a replicate some of the sounds that whales make. Specifically, I’ve isolated the ones that whales use to warn each other of danger.”
“Okay, now I’m on your frequency. This is a benefit how?”
She licked her lips, some of her tension leaving her. “The sounds that have been collected from whales are largely from land stations, tethered to small skiffs that float a hundred yards off shore in most cases. These are places where whales usually tend to turn up. And usually that’s where they get caught in nets… cut by propellers… poisoned by toxic runoff from shore… things like that.”
“Depressing.”
“Yes, it is. The centerpiece of my study comes from an incident in the Pacific Basin three years ago. Somewhere near San Francisco a male humpback was separated from his pod and caught in a fishing net. The boat that snared him happened to running some top-grade sonar and they recorded the sounds that he made. But a mile away, the whale’s pod heard his sounds after he’d been snared and they changed course rapidly and ran away.”
Dane nodded comprehendingly. “They heard him screaming in pain.”
“More or less… anyway, I got a hold of those sounds and during my second year of grad school I went out with a research team to the Alaskan ice stream. We encountered a pod of humpbacks there and I replayed those same tones through the boat’s aqua phone.”
“And they changed direction, didn’t they?”
She nodded. “And I’ve tested it on four different pods since. Two were humpbacks, one
was a pod of gray whales, the other was a pod of sperm whales. The last two, incredibly, took longer to get the message but eventually they also turned away and ran. That’s what led me to believe that perhaps there is some kind of universal language that all whales understand. That day in San Francisco with a single trapped whale, I believe, gave us the universal whale call for “Danger Ahead”.
Dane leaned back on his desk, his eyes rolling in contemplative thought. “And you think that if you pipe this sound through this box of yours you can keep whales from entering into places where they might get hurt.”
“Not just that,” she said with a small shrug. “The other applications are endless. Whales still beach themselves sometimes and no one knows why. Imagine if we could prevent them from doing that, just by setting a few well-placed call boxes at the bottom of the ocean? Or when fishing crews go out and they have one of these attached to their hull to keep whales – maybe even dolphins – away from their nets? Who knows? Maybe someday we will be able to crack the code that allows us to talk marine mammals.”
Dane was quiet for a time, looking her over and not saying anything, as if he was trying to measure her intellect through her skull. “I can see why the board wanted you along to try. You’re passionate.”
She folded her hands in her lap, a little self-consciously. “A little.”
“Very,” he corrected. “Well, that’s all we really need you to be.” He took a long breath. “Okay, let me tell you how this little excursion is going to run.”
She listened intently.
“We’re going to be out for two, maybe three weeks. Let me be clear, your apparatus isn’t the focal point of this expedition but it was an opportune time to try and test it. We’ll be out far enough for you test your gizmo. Now we know that humpbacks get your signal well enough, but the board wants to know if you can make it work effectively on other species. We’ll be coming across from Gray whales… some Brydes… maybe even a Blue Whale or two.
“Now our lab, our machine shop, server room… everything that we have on board is at your disposal. We have a couple of interns on board who can lend you a hand if you need it, but for the most part you’ll be on your own. The board got everything that you asked for to build one of these call boxes so you shouldn’t have any problems there. So, for at least two weeks, you can make a go of it. The results will largely depend on you. Ok?”
She nodded. Nya was accustomed to doing things on her own.
“Good. Well, why don’t I show you to your stateroom then?”
“Stateroom?” she asked confusedly.
“Yeah,” he said, getting up off of his desk. “You’re a guest, not an intern. Your cabin will be about the same size as mine, there’ll be enough room for you to do your work without anyone bothering you if you want. After that, I’ll show you the rest of the boat.”
She gave an appreciative smile. “That sounds good.” As they got up to leave, she gathered her bags and followed her host out of the door. She again glanced at the name-plate as they left. “Were you in the navy?” That seemed plausible, given how many tattoos that he had. But this man with her was far too young to have ascended to the rank of an admiral.
“No,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a little inside joke between me and the crew.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, back in the days of tall ships and wind-powered sailing, an admiral wasn’t always a man that rose in rank in the navy. A man who had enough money to commission a ship to a private venture could be called an admiral.”
She thought about that. “Did you finance this expedition of yours?”
“Sort of. You know of the Carver Group, yes?”
She nodded.
“Well, I own it. Your cabin is this way.”
Chapter 3
Nya felt nothing short of stupid after her first day aboard the boat. She had spoken – somewhat imbecilely – to the man who had written her acceptance letter. She didn’t understand why she didn’t realize it before. But as the seconds quickly turned into a minute of silent contemplation she arrived at the only answer she could.
She had been so damn nervous about being here she hadn’t paid attention.
To a scientist, a lack of observation like that could be a big mistake. It was the small things that tended to affect the outcome in most cases. And that was true, all the way from the minor plains of particle physics all the way up to everyday physics.
She had kicked herself as her host had given her the tour.
Dane… Dane Carver, self-styled billionaire, mogul, tycoon, whatever someone wanted to call him, he probably was. Her research had shown her the kind of things that the Carver Group was into. They were so heavily invested in so many things it was likely that that literally had a hand in everything. From the dispensers that people used to get towels in a public restroom to the technology that the military put in their satellites, the Carver Group had their fingers into it.
And Dane Carver controlled the hand that wielded those fingers.
She felt like such an idiot.
Dane had even signed the letter that gave her permission to come aboard and do what she planned on. She didn’t know why she didn’t keep that little piece of information tucked away in the forefront of her mind. An important detail, that. But how could she have known? There was only one Dane Carver… but surely there had to be more than one Dane working for the Carver Group? And certainly the man who owned it all was not the tattooed and rather punkish looking man that had shown her around his private floating lab?
Apparently, it had been so. And more fool she for not having thought it so. She had imagined Dane Carver to be some well-kempt and well-dressed man sitting in an office sky rise somewhere. She hadn’t expected… well… what she had found.
And the fact that he owned the very foundation that had granted her the opportunity to do her research felt like a slap across the face, returning her to reality. Nya felt like she was some kind of a bumbling idiot that had wandered into a minefield and the only tool she had to find her way out was a jackhammer.
Every step from here on out had to be careful.
She sat sequestered in her cabin, which was just as Dane had promised; not all that different from his own. She had a cot, a desk, a chair, a wardrobe to put her things, and a few shelves that were empty of anything except for the few small keepsakes that traveled with her. Though she still felt the excitement of this milestone in her life she felt stupid for having spoken as she had to the man who practically owned her.
“God, that was so stupid,” she muttered to herself over and over as she got comfortable in her new surroundings.
She found that would be fairly easy to get comfortable on this boat. Dane had shown her the layout before he went his own way, allowing her to do as she pleased to get settled in. She had been thankful for the opportunity to be away from him so that she might sulk in private for her behavior.
But every thought that passed only made her feel more like a complete fool. She was a scientist, dammit! She was supposed to be objective! She was supposed to be logic before emotion! It wasn’t like he’d formally introduced himself to her when she’d been shown into his cabin! It wasn’t like his name had been printed on the damn door! But as she thought on the joke of the brass nameplate she realized that in a way, it had been his name on the door.
Fuck.
She tried to give her mind over to other things. She was pleased to find that she had been right; most of the space onboard was given over to science. Most of the rooms aboard were labs dedicated to one form of marine sciences or another. There were several full labs in which she would find the kind of machinery needed to build her call box. And while most of the rooms were given over to biology, there were enough given over to technology so that she might very well be able to work without bothering or being bothered by anyone.
Dane had told her that most of the people working aboard – of which there were only twenty or so, including her – were dedicated
to the more fleshy bits of marine work. He’d told her that she could expect to run into two or three other people working in marine engineering, but otherwise she wouldn’t have to worry too much about having to share equipment or resources with other people.
The rest of the boat was pretty standard as well, she found. The passengers and the crew had separate living quarters and the areas where the two groups worked were pretty exclusive, so no one would be in each other’s way. And they weren’t so different, although she was not likely to run into any of the genuine crew as their work kept them in parts of the vessel where the scientists like her generally didn’t go.
Among them there were the engine room and bridge, places where she would likely never have to go unless there was some reason for it. There were communal recreation rooms, as well as communal showering areas since space was somewhat limited. There was a small library, a dining area, and a com-station with a ship-to-shore uplink where she could get online with anyone on the mainland without interfering with the ship’s operation; but she would have to sign in and claim a time to do so as there was only the single station. Other than that, the rest of the boat was a collection of labs and resource compartments. Nothing too complex and it was easy enough to find her way around.
But learning how to coexist with the others aboard was going to be more of a challenge, she had found.
“We have a few simple rules,” Dane had explained during her tour, “the crew has their own work to do. They don’t interfere with our work and we don’t interfere with theirs. There’s no need to and we give each other a wide berth, everyone stays happy that way.”
“Seems simple enough.”
“Rule two is that we’re all going to be in these tightly cramped quarters for three weeks and occasionally tempers are going to flare. Usually it’s something work related when it does. Some might not be so bad and will be brief and summarily forgotten. Others might be entered into the books. But regardless of how you may find some of the people that you’ll be working around personally, keep your feelings away from their work and they’ll do the same for you.”
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